


bind sweet flags around my feet

by qelos (midheaven)



Series: a song is fireworks [2]
Category: Hinatazaka46 (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Established Relationship, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:08:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26322421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midheaven/pseuds/qelos
Summary: a jab at your side. “lighten up, nao,” miho tells you, her best effort at an ōsaka accent. “nandeyanen,” she tacks on afterward.you roll your eyes. “remind me why i tolerate you?”nao seems to keep leaving something unsaid.
Relationships: Kosaka Nao/Watanabe Miho
Series: a song is fireworks [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1912633
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	bind sweet flags around my feet

**Author's Note:**

> just in time for nao day! happy birthday to the sweetest virgo i know.
> 
> title from bashō.

あやめ草  
足に結ばん  
草鞋の緒  
芭蕉 

  
  
  
  


mornings have always been unkind to you.

miho is beside you, both of you about to take breakfast. you take your water with ice, she takes hers warm. you like how the cool slides down your throat, but it doesn’t help the weariness in your bones. you sigh, heavy. 

a jab at your side. “lighten up, nao,” miho tells you, her best effort at an ōsaka accent. “ _nandeyanen_ ,” she tacks on afterward. 

you roll your eyes. “remind me why i tolerate you?”

“because you love me.”

something akin to a storm settling down. your head goes quiet. you feel your cheeks go hot—you press your glass against your face. release? relief? maybe. you sigh, again, but this time you don’t feel weary anymore. like you’ve finally let out a breath you’ve been holding.

“i really do,” you reply. 

you’ve finally figured it out. 

you remember when you’d first felt it. 

“did you hear from umezawa?”

miho has the heel of her hand resting on your desk, her body leaning towards you. it’s early morning. she always sees you before class starts. 

“the joint training camp?” you reply. “yeah.”

an odd endeavor between the basketball, volleyball, and softball teams. a weekend in kishiwada. all three teams have a tournament starting within the next month and a half. 

“are you excited?” she asks. 

you shrug. “it’s a training camp.”

miho pouts. “it’ll be fun—it’s by the sea!” she whines. 

you smile, looking down at your hands splayed across your lap. “we’ll see.”

the bell chimes. miho shifts, standing straight. 

then her eyes go warm, the way they always do when she’s about to leave, or when you are. she cradles one side of your head and presses a soft kiss to the other. always gentle. always kind. “i’ll see you later,” she tells you. 

you send her off with a wave. 

and something about it makes you ache. seeing her walk, her hair sweeping, against the bright sun from the hallway’s east-facing windows. her figure disappearing behind the room wall. like your conversation’s not finished. 

  
  


the same odd feeling knocks against your breastbone on the day you depart. 

three small buses, engines humming at the break of dawn by your school gate. it’s colder than you’re used to. you pull your fingertips inside the sleeve of your tracksuit jacket. 

it’s two minutes before you need to board the bus. the captains of each team are finalising headcounts. there’s a quiet buzz of anticipation and excitement. 

“nao.”

you turn. it’s miho. she holds out a steel thermos. 

“it’s honey and ginger tea,” she tells you. “i know how cold you can get—and i know you don’t like bitter drinks, even if they’re better for you—really, nao, black tea won’t hurt you—”

miho’s always been uncomfortable at expressing her feelings. you can tell that even this gesture makes her feel vulnerable. “thank you.” you smile and take it from her hands. the warmth seeps into your palms. “really. this sounds amazing, miho, thank you.”

and she smiles. a shy one. so unlike the miho you usually see. it’s gracious, you think, to see this side of her. a side of her she shows only you. 

“i’m glad,” miho says, before checking her watch. “gotta go.”

you wave your free hand. “see you.”

and she’s heading back to her team, walking away from you. the rising sun washes her aglow again, just like the last time you felt this. 

you look down at the thermos and back at her. and there’s that ache again—of having forgotten to say something. 

  
  
  


camp is harsh. 

minami had the team practice on the sand the whole day. your calves burn. solid ground is unfamiliar—you still feel like you need to curl your toes. 

it’s half an hour til ten in the evening. the shared room’s tatami flooring is covered in futons. menthol hangs in the air; you have four pain relief patches stuck on you yourself. 

you hear the sliding door open. 

“kosaka.” hono taps you on the shoulder. you look at her and she flicks a finger toward the door. “for you, i’m guessing.”

miho stands there, giving a small wave. her other arm carrying a futon of her own.

you laugh. she may have stayed in her team’s bus, all stoic professionalism, but she’s still human. there were no rules on the sleeping quarters, just that there’s only four and you can’t occupy more than that. 

you’re both quiet as the night winds down. miho all but collapses beside you when she’s done fixing her bedding. if you thought your captain was tough for calling for beach practice, miho had her team do their training by the falls. 

the lights are switched off. miho’s eyes flutter closed; her nose scrunches. you set aside the now-empty thermos she gave you that morning. you sweep aside the wisps of hair by her forehead and fix her blanket. 

“good night,” is all you can say, but somehow it’s not enough. 

  
  


“left!”

“i got it!”

the results of the beach training the previous day are obvious. more energy concentrated on the balls of your feet. better awareness. agility. a lighter step. a stronger hit. 

it’s nice when it works out in your favour, but—

the ball is set beautifully as you watch from the other side of the net. the squeak of shoes on hardwood echo in your ears. you already know it’s going to be a point before hono takes flight. 

the ball lands on your side of the court with a vigorous _thump._

“last i heard, blockers have to jump!” a holler comes. 

you roll your eyes. you don’t even turn to look at her. “i’m sorry, are a hundred-fifty-eight centimeter pipsqueaks allowed to have an opinion here?”

“one-five-eight my—”

“serve _onegaishimasu!_ ” minami calls. 

the game continues. 

you make every block you try for after. three straight points until you’re rotated to the back. 

doesn’t change much. the other team still wins the set soon enough. minami calls time and you all head back to your bags. your fist is clenched; miho waits for you. 

“i’m your good luck charm,” she says, smug. 

“yeah, yeah.”

you retape your fingers. drink water. wipe the sweat off your brow. fix your ponytail. miho moves with you, taking things from your bag, handing them to you, putting them back—a perfect dance. you don’t know if your chest aches from fatigue. or from—

“everyone gather!”

you look toward the court then back at her. “thanks,” you mumble.

miho replies, “you’re welcome. go kill it!”

you smile, nod. then you’re off again. 

there’s an almost unbearable heat on your shoulder blades, on your heel. like you need to turn around. your palm itches. you hope striking the ball hard enough will solve it. 

  
  


the best view of the sea is a five-minute walk from the training centre. 

training ended a little over an hour ago. it’s sunset. streaking purples and pinks and oranges. glimmering light off the water. vastness. 

“figured you’d be here.”

you’ve been expecting her. your chest lights up, anyway. “hi,” you say, turning to face her. you place a kiss on her cheek. you’ve missed her more than you’d like to admit. 

“this is nice,” she tells you.

“it is,” you say. “thanks for bringing us here.”

all miho does is smile, quiet, staring straight ahead. you follow suit. a tideless sea stretching far. endless. the chambers of your heart feel just as infinite. 

you take miho’s arm and hold it close. rest your heavy head on her shoulder. the sun dips and dips; the light fades. the streetlamps flicker on. she is warm and steady against you. you feel her every breath.

myriads swirl in your chest. there’s a lot you want to say, but what comes out is, “we’re missing the barbecue.”

miho leans into you. “let’s stay here for a while.”

  
  


the following morning, the two of you enter the dining room together. both of you late. there’s teasing whistles and hollers. miho entertains them and pretends to get angry, but you keep your head down and drag her to sit. 

her glass of water is warm. yours is cool. 

she tells you that you love her. 

and it all makes sense. all falls into place. of course she already knows—you know that she feels the same, too. miho in the morning light. in the glow of sunset. under silver moonlight. every time you’ve wanted to say something but didn’t. the knock against your breastbone, the burning in your shoulder blade.

all quieted down on a simple morning. you think it’s perfect. 

she’s talking to saya when you move to take her hand. she moves with you without missing a beat. 

maybe your mornings from now will be kinder.

**Author's Note:**

> >this may be a needless clarification, but nao's teammates that are mentioned here are nogizaka's umezawa minami and keyakizaka's tamura hono, both volleyball players irl as well -- i'm quite fond of them both so i couldn't help but include them  
> >also, my only knowledge about high school club training camps are from bingewatching _haikyuu _and _kuroko no basket_ last month or so, so i'm sorry for any inaccuracies!__  
>  also, i guess this is a series now. if i'm being optimistic, there's maybe 2 or 3 works i have left to write in this wonky same-school universe. curiouscat is [here](http://curiouscat.me/pisceshorizon) as always  
> 


End file.
